


The Sweater

by ilookedback



Series: Hyggetober Challenge Ficlets [1]
Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Other, gender neutral reader, just a bit of pining after javi in a sweater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilookedback/pseuds/ilookedback
Summary: There’s something different about him and it takes you a minute to identify it: you’ve never seen him in a sweater.But then, you’ve never seen him at 4 AM.The usually balmy air is chilly at this hour, sinking in through the too-thin fabric of your shirt and making your skin feel prickly and sensitive. Some small part of you is jealous of the warm knit pullover he’s wearing. In the spare light of the moon and stars and the streetlamp half a block down, you think it’s a dark shade of green and it makes you think of Christmas, months away. You wonder if it was a gift or a piece he bought himself, for the rare cold occasion he wants to look good.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Series: Hyggetober Challenge Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952407
Kudos: 35





	The Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> I set myself a writing challenge this month based on [this prompt list](https://www.instagram.com/p/B201-j7ljdU/?igshid=1pflwcl5260me), where I am attempting to post a short fic every day spread across various Pedro fandoms. I originally planned to post them as individual chapters in one post, but since they're all standalone fics I changed my mind and decided to post them separately as a series instead.
> 
> The prompt for day 1 is "sweater."

There’s something different about him and it takes you a minute to identify it: you’ve never seen him in a sweater.

But then, you’ve never seen him at 4 AM.

The usually balmy air is chilly at this hour, sinking in through the too-thin fabric of your shirt and making your skin feel prickly and sensitive. Some small part of you is jealous of the warm knit pullover he’s wearing. In the spare light of the moon and stars and the streetlamp half a block down, you think it’s a dark shade of green and it makes you think of Christmas, months away. You wonder if it was a gift or a piece he bought himself, for the rare cold occasion he wants to look good.

They’re silly, distracted thoughts to be having at a time like this. You take a sip of coffee to clear your mind and make a face when you find it cold, too. You keep forgetting to buy a working thermos.

He finishes his exchange with the police liaison and makes his way over to you, whispering a greeting. There’s no need to be so quiet for a simple roadblock, but perhaps the press of the darkness calls for it, some deep-seated instinct unwilling to disrupt the stillness of the night.

“You alright?” he murmurs. He nudges your arm with his and you are mildly dismayed to discover the sweater is even softer than it looks.

“I’m fine,” you tell him. “Just a little cold.”

He smirks, because he’s an asshole and he’s clearly judging you for wearing short sleeves, but then he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his side, and rubs his warm hand over the bare skin of your arm. You can’t help but lean into him, enjoying his warmth and the soft brushed wool of his sweater. Everything about him is a little softer in the haze of pre-dawn—the quiet way that he moves and the expression in his eyes and the hair sweeping over his forehead, curling at the ends.

“I’m gonna steal your sweater,” you grumble, feeling resentful that he is this handsome and this soft and this warm and not yours.

He laughs, a quiet, surprised chuckle, and squeezes your arm before pulling away. “I’d like to see you try,” he says with a wink.

You sip at your sad, lukewarm coffee and watch him pull his bulletproof vest on, fastening it tight to lock all that softness away. And you think you might like to see yourself try, too.


End file.
